Fallen Rain: An Untold Story of Survival
by xburningrosex
Summary: The sun goes down on the city in what seems like a perfect day; when in fact the imperfections are found within the rubble and decaying corpses strewn across the streets. Car pile-ups as far as the eye can see. Soot fills the air, covering everything in ash from the burning bodies. Screams pierce the sky, ripping holes in the clouds. Scrapping of metal against the ground...
1. Introduction to Horror

The sun goes down on the city in what seems like a perfect day; when in fact the imperfections are found within the rubble and decaying corpses strewn across the streets. Car pile-ups as far as the eye can see. Soot fills the air, covering everything in ash from the burning bodies. Screams pierce the sky, ripping holes in the clouds. Scrapping of metal against the ground, the roaring flames burning out of control. Only the thing about the corpses is some of them are moving. Walking, out for the flesh of the humans. The living ones. This, this could be what the Lord's Word meant in his scriptures. _Isaiah 26: 19-20:_ _"But your dead will live; their bodies will rise you who dwell in the dust wake up and shout for joy your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead go, my people, enter your rooms and shut the doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until his wrath has passed by..." _This... this reality has become a living nightmare. Every waking moment, if you wake from your slumber, paralyzes and grips you with fear. Will I live till tomorrow? Will I live to see my family outside Raccoon City again? To be to survive, you must stay hidden... away from streets and large open areas. Those would be the worst to get ambushed in. The dead could come at you from any angle and surround you. Death would be the only option then. What you are about to read, these words, display actions and measures I have taken to escape the horror of what used to be my hometown... Raccoon City...


	2. Lone Wolf

The crowd of walkers rushes by the alley. I sit, unarmed, utterly wary of the surroundings and the danger I'm in right now. I lost my weaponry a few blocks back in an ambush by some other survivors. A ruthless grew of criminals who feed on lone wanderers. Now I must be much more careful than before. Even the slightest movement could trigger one of them to turn around. Laying quietly using controlled breathing techniques, I watched the forces advance. Across the street I could a set of kitchen knives in the window. If I can get over there, I might possibly be able to start my arsenal off again. A knife wouldn't exactly qualify as part of an arsenal, but it makes one hell of a difference when you're in a situation like mine. What seemed like days had passed had only been about an hour according to my watch. I'm always surprised that this still works. The glass plate protecting the hands of the watch had a crack that went straight through the glass. One of the hands had been bent sideways somehow. I glanced at the street; it seemed to be covered in what looked like a fine glass powder. That inside a shotgun shell would be deadly. I shook off the distraction relatively quickly and carefully crawled toward the edge of the alleyway. Scrutinizing every detail in your environment could save you. It could be a life or death choice. To the left, off in the distance, the remnants of the congregation of rotting disease carriers; to the left a car pile-up. Only option: look for a back door in one these shops close by. I slowly but carefully proceeded to cross the open street, for that had been my only option. The door to the Raccoon Kitchen Appliances creaked opened slowly, causing myself to squint and glance behind me periodically as I slowly opened it. Inside was a raided store: shelves were tipped, chipped and broken. It looked like a storm had ripped through the place. A storm of thieves and hoarders. As to not get caught up in the moment I moved stealthily to the kitchen knives set and took out the largest one in the arrangement. Off to my right behind me I heard a slight shuffling, followed by groaning. I twisted quickly to find a Carrier slowly walking toward me. I responded by holding the blade of the knife and aimed at the forehead. After letting it go, the stainless steel weapon plunged through the temple killing the Walker instantaniously. My feet brought me over to the decaying corpse and I wrapped my hands around the handle of the meat cleaver. Blood cascaded from the cavity that opened in the corpse's forehead. I wielded the cleaver, looked at it and threw it aside; then I reached for the second biggest one: the roast knife. As I glanced around toward the back, I shuffled almost silently past the shelves and found a lighter, flicked it a couple times, and placed it inside my pocket. Suddenly, the glass to the front of the store shattered and a large crowd of Walkers stumbled in through the storefront... they were coming after me... I looked horrifyingly to my left, to my right, then behind me. To my left was a door and behing me was a door. Which one do I choose...?


	3. Primed for Action

**Chapter 3: Primed for Action**

The stench of the rotting flesh burned the inside of my nostrils, like acid would if it had been poured on human skin. As I attempted to pull myself together as fast as I possibly could, the crowd moaned louder, their outstretched arms reached toward me. I glanced at them, noticing the yellowish tint to the nails. To avoid regurgitating the only food I had eaten in the past four days I turned around lept for the back door and it crashed open; more Walkers entered the shop. Where the hell did all of these things come from? How did they find me? Then I remembered that I had an open wound on my upper torso. My shirt had been soaked thoroughly through to the surface with blood. They sensed it. But how? These creatures act only on intrinsic impulses, the predatorial instincts that would be innate in all homo sapiens. I backed up into the door to my left and hit it with a solid thud. With every breath I took they seemed to be getting closer. Inhale, one step; exhale, another step. As I came within reach, the backdoor suddenly flew wide open. A force that knocked the wind out of me pulled me back in the alleyway and three men with assault rifles came in. They pointed the guns at the disease ridden corpses and fired without hesitation. Shreds of rotten and putrid flesh began showering everything within the shop. Within what seemed to be seconds, the bodies became still, except for the occassional muscle spasm. The men that had saved me turned, looking in my general vicinity but I couldn't tell if they had been looking directly at me. Black gas masks covered their faces. In fact, their entire bodies, covered in black padding and armor. Not metal, just bulletproof, heavy thick padded armor. Then they stepped back into the alleyway and proceeded in the same direction they came from. This was the closest encounter with death that I've ever experienced. It may have been the most terrifying situation. After gathering what sanity I had left, I looked around the alleyway. It had been dimly lit by lamps on the wall at the end of the short alleyway, I could see the body of a man who had recently met their demise. Behind me, the door had been left ajar; so I walked slowly over to it and slammed it shut. The lock clicked behind me and I proceeded forward. In the corner of my eye I could see the glint of trigger. Judging by the size I estimated the model type to be of 9mm caliber. As I reached down, I pulled it from the vest pocket. The man's age had to be approximately 35, of Spanish descent, and a part of the Special Forces of a neighboring town. It definitely wasn't the S.T.A.R.S. issue Browning 9mm. Upon closer inspection I saw that this pistol was just a Beretta 92. Now that I'm up in arms, it should be easier to get around...


	4. Makeshift Armory

**Chapter 4: Makeshift Armory**

The alleyway had been covered in a wet, slime-like substance. It would be impossible to determine what it was seeing as the lighting in the alleyway was like the lighting in someone's basement; dim, poorly-lit and dirty beyond belief. To my surprise, this "escape route" had no signs of the disease carriers. The only evidence of death back here that I saw had been the body of the Special Forces officer. This was a completely enclosed area with a T-shape, I being at the left end and the back door to the kitchen appliance shop. A short center piece of the shape ended with a staircase made of cobblestone. I approached it slowly, holding the Beretta 92 in the air in front of me. Feelings of dread filled me with every step I took down the short flight. For what reason, I could not figure out. The feeling shook me to the marrow of my bones, boiling the cold brisk autumn air around me. At the bottom of the steps lay a wooden door; leading to what, I don't know. I think it's time to find out what is hidden behind this door. I held the 9mm at the center of the metal, reached for the door handle and twisted it. My feet seemed like they were almost spring loaded; I flew back and to my surprise nothing behind the door had been waiting to take my life. I took a step inside the cold dark cellar and felt around in the air about my head looking for a string to flick on the light. The cotton brushed against my hand gently and I clutched it within my grasp. Light revealed a bloodbath; a room filled with rotting cadavers. SWAT, RPD, and Raccoon City civilians with torn clothing decorated the room in a macabre fashion. But the bodies were raided of all ammo and weaponry. How could I tell? In my ten years as an adult, I raided banks, crypts and funeral homes. Arrested twice but I never spent more than two days in jail total. As a teen I joined the Raccoon street gang known as the Blacks. We had been widely known across New York as the Bloods and the Latin Kings were. After this "outbreak", we all dispersed we're all in different corners of the States now. The stench burned my nose almost making me gag. I pulled a handkerchief out and cover my mouth with it. In the other hand I still held the Beretta. On the other side of the gruesome scene of carnage, stood yet another metal door stained with blood. I sloshed through the innards of chunks of human flesh, trying not to vomit the contents of my stomach. At the back of my throat I could feel the stomach acid creeping up the back of my throat into my mouth. Throat muscles seized a hold of the acid and pushed it back down my esophagus. I thrust the heavy iron door to reveal a blood-soaked flight of steps that led to a whole in a brick wall… Slightly suspicious, I told myself. Nothing rang out to me as hazardous but I didn't let my guard down. I gawked at the hole in the brick fortification; out of nowhere I hear helicopters buzzing like mechanical dragonflies over heard. The rotors were spinning in sync with each other. A glance overhead revealed a black, and what appeared to be a steel, container of some sort. What the… fuck? It dropped to hit a nearby roof. I thought to myself, _I'm not sticking around for this._ My feet thrust me through the hole in the wall into a dark hallway. The silence of the hallway seemed almost too much to bear, as if it became a heavy burden on my back. Ahead I could see lighting ahead, revealing a set of lettering on the door labeling it _stairwell to floor 2_. Before I even placed my free hand around the door, I heard gunshots: possibly from the floor above me. I hurried up the stairwell to see three people standing there with rifles in their hands. Dim lighting gave me the small advantage of seeing the details of my surroundings. _A young child with a rifle; what were they thinking? _The child couldn't have been more than 8 years of age. He had a thick-armored vest on, much too big for his petite body. His blonde hair was thickly matted and dirty to the point where I would have thrown him in a washing machine along with dirty clothes he had on his body. _Something's not right here, I can sense it. There's something bad coming soon. _To put aside the bad thoughts, I focused on the fine feminine figure. It was quite hard to keep my eyes off her body. Curves like a bottle, blazing red hair. Damn I would so tap that.

"Excuse me", I said as I aimed my weapon high.

The trio twisted around, with the rifles targeting my face. "Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?" The man shook his rifle at me.

"Ooh, nice piece you have there." My trigger hand began to go numb for no reason so I jostled the gun to the other hand; then back and forth. _I might have to snatch that before I leave here__.__ There's my inner thief kicking in. Always cuts in at the most essential moments. Stay for a while take whatever I need._

"I'm just another one of those survivors looking for a secure place to stay for the night". The woman gave me a look. A slight hint of a smile curled at the edge of her lips. This woman had some thoughts in her head and planning something for the two of us. I smirked at the thought.

"Joseph, he doesn't seem to be any trouble. Just give him the benefit of the doubt." She winked but Joseph couldn't see. Her long eyelashes batting at me with Maybe it was just me, but I'm pretty sure she thought highly of me. Thing is though she doesn't know my past. My crimes drive all feminine characters far away.

"Just get him in the room". He butted with the end of the rifle, his outsized beard shaking slightly. Joseph had a fat complexion; he had enough rolls to put a bakery out of business. His armor was poorly put together. It looked like pieces of metal just welded together in random spots. No way could he ever survive in this outbreak with that kind of protection. Cold iron pressed into my back, pushing toward the heavy Oak door labeled **206**. When the door slid open, inside was a treasure trove of weaponry. It looked like a makeshift armory. _This is just way too easy. I call this a thief's paradise. I could make it out of this room with most of these tucked under my arm without them even noticing._

"Amber, settle him in. Let him rest while he's here, even though it won't be for long". Joseph gestured to the bean bags in the left corner of the studio apartment.

_I will take what I want and get the hell out of here... I guarantee I will be gone by the end of the day tomorrow…_


	5. The Human Bond

**Chapter 4: The Human Bond**

The apartment had been designed as a studio apartment for one person. An elongated studio decorated with white marble floor tiles (wow this had to be expensive) and elaborate Greek wallpaper that depicted scenes of war and death. Dirt covered most of the square footage of the flooring, but not in piles; they seemed more like stains. Peeling wallpaper off the walls, in some places it looked like it had been burned with cigarettes. Long thick gashes penetrated the sheetrock and some even through the studs in the wall. It looked as if there had been a battle fought in this room itself. The only way I could come to my conclusions about the skirmish in this apartment would have been the fact that the claw marks in the walls were inlaid with blood and some type of bodily tissue. In the light of the chandelier I could make out that much detail.

"Sit down". Amber pulled up two raggedy bean bags, one turquoise and one severely stained white. It looked like someone had stabbed them both multiple times with a large sharp object.

"WHY?" I replied indignantly. Seeing as I had been forced to come into this room, I was still irate about anything that could happen to me with these people. To help put it aside, I plopped onto the leather piece of decorative furniture and began talking to the gorgeous red haired woman next to me. "So your husband must be extremely protective of you and your son I see."

Amber glared at me like I had called her a whore. "Umm… that's my younger brother". Her face returned to a content expression, her dimples showing. "And the child… is my son. He was been named after his father Brad Vickers, who was a pilot for Alpha Team of the S.T.A.R.S. Life hasn't been easy since the outbreak hit. Plus it's hard on me knowing that his father is out there in this mess. Brad, my husband, joined the STARS after the Detroit Riots. He was one of the few commanding officers that stood tall and helped the stop gangs, along with civilians, from further destroying anything else. Not only was he once a Detroit Police Office, he flew helicopters for the US military at one point." She looked down at her arm and brushed off some ash from it. I could see the wedding ring on her finger. Brad turned and smiled at his mother from across the room. "They must be planning to look for more food seeing as we ate all the canned goods." Amber pointed to the shredded pile of metal cans.

I glanced at Amber as she glanced at Brad with a gleaming face. Then I remembered I hadn't eaten in a while. Oh well. "How old is he? He can't be more than 10."

The chandelier began flickering and Joseph twisted around to look at it, picked up a brick and threw it at the decorating lighting structure, destroying three of the light bulbs. Glass shards rained down below and the brock followed therewith.

"Joseph you dumb bastard!" yelled Amber. The curvy feminine figure got up and walked across the room in an almost graceful waltz. Her small hand rose to about the height of Joseph's face; it connected with his bearded cheek. "I can't believe you and your anger issues. Brad, honey", she said as she turned and got down on his level, "go with Uncle Joe and find some food for us okay?"

He gave his mother a peck on her right cheek and waited for Joseph at the door. "I love you mommy".

"Joseph you need to get your act together. Leave and go help your nephew with food gathering, maybe a fucking walk around will help with your anger issues." Amber flipped him the bird, slammed her rear end down on her turquoise bean bag and released a flurry of the beads out of the holes on the side of it. "Damn it!" She said as she looked around at the mess she had accidentally created with her rather large rear end.

I turned and watched as the Joseph and Brad Vickers II left the room. As soon as she saw they left the room she closed and locked the door behind them. She walked over to me leaned in and kissed me. I was shocked to the point where I thought I'd die right on the spot. Then Amber sat on my lap facing me, with her legs wrapped around my waist.

In a very sensual voice she said," you, my friend are extremely attractive". Amber nibbled gently at my neck. I pulled as close as I possibly could enough so that I could feel the body heat coming off her. I gripped onto her hips and miss fiery hair reached down and tugged at the bottom of my shirt. I lifted my arms and she pulled my shirt off over my head. Then I slowly and delicately removed her Acacia Strain shirt off. We looked at each other with the most lustful glance and I could feel the tension between each. Sweat was pouring from her body; looking as though she had just been caught in a torrential downpour. Her emerald green eyes stood out against her pale skin, even in the faint glow of the chandelier. Amber stood up and laid the bean bags in a row. I bit my lip when I looked at her curves. Pink lace panties poked out from the black skinnies. She sprawled out on them. I proceeded to unbutton her jeans; then pulled them off and dove in for the kill…


End file.
